Looking
by Dreamiflame
Summary: Slash. Xander feels like a voyeur.


Title: Looking  
Author: Dreamiflame  
Rating: PG-13  
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns them all.  
Notes: My thanks to my lovely Sara for beta-ing this for me. Written for a challenge on livejournal to write a fic with the first line.  
  
Even watching him felt like being a voyeur. But Xander couldn't turn his eyes away, drag himself away from the wonder that was Spike's lips wrapped around a cigarette. It was only when Spike glanced up, looking into the shadows, that Xander forced himself to pull back.  
  
He fell back against the brick wall, feeling his head impact it with a dull thud. Something inside his chest felt broken and raw, like tearing his eyes away had scarred him physically. Xander closed his eyes and summoned the image again, the soft, full lips pressed tightly around the white cylinder and shuddered.  
  
"That had to hurt," said a voice at his elbow, and his eyes snapped open. Spike was standing there, still smoking calmly, the streetlight glinting off the bleached hair. Xander felt his mouth open and close a few times, but no words came out. "Why are you following me?"  
  
Xander straightened a little, the wall a comforting, if slightly scratchy presence at his back. "Following you? Why would I be following you? That would imply that I had some kind of interest in you other than the over whelming feeling of-" Sometime, during his babbling, Spike had moved closer to him, and Xander's mind tripped over itself and ran out of steam. His mouth went back to opening and closing like he was a fish.  
  
Spike pressed closer to him, leather jacket brushing up against the front of Xander thighs. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were babbling because you're afraid to answer me." Spike's breath tasted of smoke and blood, brushing past Xander's cheek as the vampire leaned in close to him. "But that can't be it, can it?"  
  
His back was flat against the wall and Xander realized he simply couldn't go any farther back. "No," he said, and felt stupid immediately. Spike abruptly stepped back and tilted his head to the sky, taking a deep drag off his cigarette. Xander realized he was staring again and forced himself to look down, away, anywhere that wasn't Spike. It was easier to talk with Spike's attention off of him. "So, since it obviously isn't that I was following you, and I was babbling before because I always babble, and it's really late, I'll just be going no- what are you doing?"  
  
Spike had an arm on either side of Xander's head and was leaning into him, body no more than a few inches from his. His cigarette was gone now, and he was smiling slightly, patiently waiting for Xander to run out of words. Xander felt the fish impression returning and shut his mouth firmly, feeling his pulse beat harder. Spike was close enough that Xander was sure human ears would have been able to hear how it rushed along his veins. He swallowed hard. "What are you doing?" he asked again, proud that the quaver in his voice was almost controlled.  
  
"Just looking, mate." Spike's wrist was cold against his ear, and Xander shifted a little, trying to move away. "You know about looking, don't you?"  
  
Xander sniffed and looked for a way out. "If you mean with my eyes, then yeah, I'm quite familiar with looking. I do it quite a lot, actually. Pretty much an expert at this point." Spike was smiling again, Xander noticed, and felt frustrated that he didn't know why. "Most people are, actu-"  
  
"You talk too much," Spike cut in, and covered Xander's mouth. Cold, cold lips against his, and Xander was reminded of Drusilla's fingers on his face as she crooned to him. He pushed at Spike's shoulders, and Spike stepped back, brow twisted in confusion.  
  
"I didn't want that," he said, and swung at Spike, not surprised when his fist was caught long before it could do any damage. Strong hand encircling his wrist, and they both froze. Xander felt flushed and confused, and Spike's face reflected his feelings back to him. Then somewhere a can rattled on the pavement, and Xander watched Spike's mask slide back into place.  
  
"My mistake, then," he said smoothly, releasing Xander's wrist and patting down his pockets for his cigarettes. Xander rubbed at the cold place where Spike's fingers had been and watched him. Something was off, though, unbalanced within him, and he stepped forward, pulled the unlit cigarette from Spike's mouth. "What the-" Spike started angrily, and Xander dropped his inhibitions with the cylinder and replaced the cancer stick with a kiss. It felt clumsy and cold, very cold, then Spike's lips parted and Xander shivered at the freezing touch of his tongue.  
  
Later, Spike hunted for his cigarettes again, but stopped when he saw the look on Xander's face. "Didn't know you hated 'em so much," he grumbled, and tucked his lighter back into his pocket.  
  
"That's not it," Xander said, reaching for Spike's hand, feeling the fingers warmed with borrowed heat.  
  
"Then what is?"  
  
Xander shrugged. "I'm still trying to find out," he said, and started off, out of the alley. Spike followed quickly, drawing along side him, and the two walked quietly together through the night air.  
  
"How will you know when you find it?" Spike asked, kicking randomly at a pebble, and Xander shrugged again.  
  
"I'll know," he said, and knew it for the truth. Spike grunted something like agreement, and Xander smiled. 


End file.
